


Earthquakes and Lightning

by voleuse



Series: Company Ink [1]
Category: Alias
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-29
Updated: 2003-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-09 04:29:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You burn me, I burn you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Earthquakes and Lightning

**Author's Note:**

> Set between "Counteragent" and "The Passage, Part One."

He's just gotten out of his convertible and set the alarm when Sydney's monstrous vehicle screeches into the parking garage. She parks, and hops out of the SUV to face him.

"Ms. Bristow." She smiles grimly at him as an elderly couple passes by in their Cadillac. "What a pleasure to see you again so soon."

"Cut the crap, Sark."

"Of course." He bows with a sketch of modesty and leads him into the lobby of his apartment building.

He watches her as they cross the spacious room. She scans it, her eyes pausing on the elegant lounge, complete with a fireplace, the marble floor, and the coffee and tea set up by the receptionist's desk. When they pause to wait for the elevator, he notes the way she digs the toe of her shoe into the Persian rug set in front of it.

They end up having the elevator to themselves. It's a long ride up to his apartment.

She's silent, despite the sharp glances she tosses at him every few minutes.

"Can I ask, Sydney," and she glares at him when he uses her name, "what I should think you're doing here?"

Her jaw clenches for a moment before she answers. "I'm supposed to interrogate you, remember?"

"Ah." The elevator bell dings as they reach his floor. "Right."

She looks a little surprised as they emerge; there is a short hallway, and it only leads to one door.

"You live in the penthouse?"

He slides his key into the lock and opens the door without flourish. "What did you expect?"

She doesn't respond, but stalks into the apartment. He is thinking of offering his guest a drink when she spins and shoves him against the closed door. He prepares to duck, expecting violence, but instead she kisses him.

He's not sure how to respond. He doesn't like the feeling.

She kicks off her shoes and sheds her jacket, silent.

"That was unexpected."

She begins to strip his shirt off carefully, and he feels a little breathless.

"I have to say, Sydney," and she unbuckles his belt, "when Sloane asked you to debrief me, I never imagined--"

She silences him with another kiss, and he can't quite talk when her lips part from his.

"Don't say anything, you son of a bitch." His pants are off now, and her hand snakes against him. "You never had a sense of humor before, so don't think you're allowed to have one now."

"Of course." Gulps, and dares to begin unbuttoning her blouse.

She allows it, and only gasps as he pushes it off her shoulders. Leaves it to puddle in the foyer as he nudges her into the living room of his apartment, unhooking her skirt and letting it slip off her hips. Does the same to her brassiere, though he regrets its fall for a moment; it's quite lovely, a lacy maroon confection that he can't help but appreciate. He doesn't contemplate that for long, however, as his gaze returns to Sydney's body, lanky and strong and utterly elegant.

He wants to taste her.

He can feel the tension in her shoulders as he guides her, backwards, through the room, and he repays that with a smirk, propelling her onto the couch. Her knees fold, and lightning-quick, he eases her panties off her.

Before she can say anything, he plunges his tongue inside her, and finding her fragrantly wet, he hums. Sets to work.

Sydney is gasping, a hand raking through his hair, the other clutching at the sofa's arm as he tidily laps at her. "Sark, wait," but it's already too late.

She comes with a moan, and he smiles. Stands, and gazes down at her, slumped and sated.

"Shall we continue this in the bedroom?"

She shakes her head, sweeping her leg to unbalance him, and he falls to the carpet with a thud.

He's surprised; he didn't expect her capable of sudden moves for at least a few more minutes. Clearly there's more to Sydney Bristow than he thought, because she's poised above him in a moment.

"Smug bastard," she mutters at him, annoyed.

He nods with a smirk, grabs her hips, and plunges into her.

She twists her body in surprise; he rotates in counterpoint and is rewarded with another moan. Grasping her waist with one arm, he arches and rolls, switching their positions.

Her eyes smolder at him for a moment, but he arranges her arms above her head, ducks his head to lick at her breasts, pumping into her all the while.

It's a bit unbelievable, he thinks, fucking Sydney Bristow. Her legs are wrapped around his waist, his arms are braced on the floor, and their bodies are slick with sweat. She pants as their bodies slap together, and he marvels.

It feels like chaos. He never wants it to end.

They never break eye contact, and he sees her climax before he feels it, shuddering and sharp. She doesn't say a word, but he sees her teeth clamp down on another moan, releasing only a prolonged hiss.

He thrusts once, twice, three times more, and he's coming as well; it's been building ever since she pressed him against his door.

They lie on the floor for several minutes, cooling, before he stands and offers her a hand. "I believe I mentioned the bedroom."

She doesn't protest this time, but follows him in.

They don't sleep just yet.

*

 

He wakes before she does, and he's already showered and dressed when she gets out of bed. He doesn't smile at her, wrapped up in his sheets with her hair mussed.

He straightens his tie as he looks in the mirror. "There's coffee in the kitchen if you'd like."

"Thanks." She's wary, and he isn't surprised. "Sark, you won't--"

He cuts her off with a shake of his head, and she follows him as he exits into the living room. He plucks his keys from their resting place, not looking at her. "This has been a pleasant interlude, Ms. Bristow, but we are working together."

"Right."

At the door, he turns, looks back. "I have been meaning to ask you, though, about that antidote." He pauses, watches her bite her lip. "I haven't heard of any illness in SD-6. If it wasn't for one of your co-workers there, why did you need the serum?"

She lowers her gaze, clutches the sheet more tightly.

He shrugs. "I trust you can let yourself out?"

He doesn't wait for a reply.


End file.
